


work song

by merriell



Series: antarlina (e) [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Complicated Sibling Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Reno is a manipulative bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell
Summary: 2020. There was decidedly only one reason why Reno, who always avoided any kind of these rich, privileged parties, would attend this soirée. No one known, but he knew exactly what was going to happen that night.





	work song

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [work song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130482) by [merriell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell). 



> Translation from the Indonesian ver.

The bustle of the metropolis passed in a turtle’s pace around him while the car Abi was driving burst out between lines and lines of motorcycles into an upper-middle class area in South Jakarta. Reno stared outside with lips pressed together into a thin line, preferring the quiet under the chatter of radio announcer reverberating from the car’s speaker. He pressed his pointer finger against the cold glass before closing his eyes.

“Jakarta would definitely start snowing tomorrow if Reno came along,” he heard the high voice of his sister from his side. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that she was not looking up from her iPhone as she talked; it had been stabbing his sight with the turned-up light the entire drive. From the sharp tone, too, he also knew that she was sulking.

Reno very rarely came with them to these kind of events because he knew when to avoid and make work plans well before any notification about an event he should attend even came from his family’s group chat. His current residence that was a little far away from his childhood home helped him to do so. But Reihana, who still lived at home despite having graduated late, could not avoid any event as easily.

“If you don’t live at home like Moreno, you’re allowed to not come into these kind of events,” Abi replied, not taking his eyes off the road. “And Moreno actually has a job and doesn’t spend his time coming home at 4 am like you do.”

Hana responds by snorting very loudly.

“You need to find a job, Hana,” Ummi agreed with the kind of words that Reno had heard more often in the past few months. Reno decided to tune out from the conversation completely. He didn’t care much for this family drama.

There was only _one_ reason why he decided to come tonight, anyway.

* * *

Soirée was one of the many events that he didn’t like to attend. He had many reasons, but the fact was, his father was blood in the water, and there were a lot of sharks hungry for connection circling around their family at all times from the moment they walked in. It made him want to stay near the corners, blending in with the rustic decoration that he knew cost more than some people’s food for one month. He watched as his stepsister pass by every five minutes, with different boys every time, as he was avoiding the gazes of every person who did so far as step to his direction.

It wasn’t as if he was doing nothing. Reno was _waiting_. The wine he had been holding in his hand had not been touched even when it had warmed. His hand formed a slow circle with the glass as he heard a roaring guffaw from the other side of the room alongside with the DJ blaring some 80s pop he didn’t knew the title of.

Reno pushed his body off the wall. His feet brought him to the center of that gigantic ballroom, but stopped when his way was interrupted by somebody. A woman smiled at him brightly, her face displaying the obvious English descent mixing with her Indonesian blood. Beside her was an older woman who was staring at Reno with the biggest of grin.

“Moreno!”

“Ratna,” he nodded slightly.

He had met Ratna through a national event managed by his firm. They worked together many times with steam coming up from each of their coffee cups on a local coffee shop. Reno didn’t like that many people, in fact he’d go as far as to say he _dislikes_ most people, but Ratna was one of those very few exceptions. Reno could basically feel her radiant kindness, and the big diamond in her ring finger—a non-verbal claim from a son of oil refinery owner that Reno had no business of knowing—made for the nice touch of making other people to not bother asking anything about their relationship.

The woman beside her was a different matter entirely. “Meet Annette Lewis, my cousin.” Different from Ratna’s dominant Javanese features, Annette looked more Caucasian, although her olive skin made Reno think that there must have been some Spanish blood in her. Reno nodded, offering his hand. He knew what she wanted. “Annette wanted so much to meet you, but I keep telling her that you never come to these kind of events. She enjoyed your—"

“Ratna!”

Ratna’s words were cut short by a low, heavy bass of someone from Reno’s left. Reno turned at the same time as the other man’s step, sending the full wine glass to crash against the man’s wide chest, making a spray of red mess against his tux. The man only gasped.

“Oh.” Reno did not sound surprised at all.

Kinan Mahardhika, on the other hand, looked shocked. The very fitting tuxedo was now turning into a reddish color. Behind Kinan, a woman in her 30s pulled out a silk handkerchief from her Fendi clutch.

“I’m very sorry,” Reno, again, did not sound sorry at all.

“No, no, it’s fine, I was the one who’s careless…” Kinan scratched awkwardly at his head. It was then he took the full sight of Reno; at once, the light brown eyes squinted at him.

The woman who was with Kinan offered the handkerchief to him. “Kinan, it’s your fault for _rushing_. Here…”

Before Kinan could take it, Reno had smoothly brush aside her hand. “No need,” he said. Someone who was not paying attention would remark on how rude the behaviour was, but the four people around them had been too busy on watching both of the man’s faces to be able to tell. Reno put his glass-less hand against Kinan’s arm. “Let’s go to the back and clean you up, shall we?"

* * *

There were _always_ too-luxurious bathrooms in every venue of these kind of events—bigger than most apartment in South Jakarta—and this time was no exception. Reno stayed quiet as Kinan slowly took off his blazer, tucking it neatly on the (very real) marble counter with a small smile. His expression showed relief instead of annoyance.

Reno erased the distance between them. He put his hand against the traces of the wine, now pink, before muttering something under his breath. Slowly, the wet stain turned into a mass of water dancing in the air, following Reno’s fingers. He took a discrete look at Kinan’s face, who seem as entranced as the wine stain, before throwing the water mass away to the sink.

“Thank you,” Kinan muttered softly.

Reno took a step back, nodding. He turned the gold faucet on, letting water run over his fingers. “You’re Ratna’s friend, am I correct?” he asked after a moment.

“High school friends,” replied Kinan. “I’m Kinan Mahardhika.”

Any normal person would recognise the name from rows of political campaign banners two years ago. Although he did not get elected in Jakarta, Anak Agung Wayan Kinan Raka Mahardhika’s work ethic was very popular in the social media. The fact that his father famously dabbled in politics as well helped him to soar even higher. His very handsome face did wonders for his popularity, of course, but most of the time, his names were said because he was a young candidate favored by Balinese locals.

Reno’s question, of course, was a mere formality, because he knew exactly who Kinan was.

“Reno,” he answered, his gaze staying at his hands and not at Kinan’s face.

“ _Just_ Reno?”

He knew that socializing in these kind of family atmosphere did not allow them to get acquainted with mere first names; family names meant something deeper, more than connections and how many people are following your social medias. His family name _meant_ satisfied/excited smiles from anyone with any dark past that they were trying to legally erase, or anyone who was hiding narcotics at all times under their suit. But Reno’s own _name_ meant something amidst the Makarim clan, making him loathe to let his family name stain his first every time he introduced himself.

“Moreno,” he turned the faucet off before he turned to Kinan, offering him a thin smile. “Moreno Makarim. Nice to meet you. Ratna and I are work buddies.”

Kinan gazed back with furrowed brows. He seemed like he was thinking very hard. “Moreno,” he murmured. “A name that is more appropriate for…” and that low voice disappeared at once into the air. That tall, tanned man stepped back. Reno was attacked by momentarily anxiety of Kinan remembering _something else_ that wasn’t his name. His name might have not been mentioned in press thanks to Abi, but rumours had always followed closely behind him—one more reason why he preferred not to attend bullshit events like this.

Their silence was interrupted by somebody shoving open the door. An older man, probably in his fourties, stared at them before he pushed into one of the cubicles. Reno followed the man’s gesture before sighing quickly. “I have to go. I have to apologize again—“

“Moreno,” Kinan interrupted, and there was something in his voice.

“Yes?”

A smile slowly rose in Kinan’s lips. “I remember you.”

“Pardon?” Reno executed the theatricals; yeah, he didn’t seem like it, but he sometimes liked being dramatic about something. He squinted, more of the act.

“2013. That cold mineral water?” That smile turned into a boyish grin, bright, lighting up his whole ace. “I told you I need your name, right? Just in case we meet again.”

Reno could only watch as Kinan seemed to be so amused by their second (to him, at least) meeting, as if the threads of fate had pushed them to meet again without any of them planning. If only Kinan knew that the reason they were both in this too-expensive bathroom had nothing to do with _fate_. Other hands had more to do with it, and these hands belong to Reno, hanging on his side, still wet from the water. 

Reno knew exactly who Kinan Mahardhika was. He had followed his career trail very closely from the start.

But Kinan did not need to know _everything_ about Moreno Nadir Makarim.

“Oh, yes,” Reno was smiling, too. “The basketball championship. I remember you, too."

* * *

He found Hana at one corner of the party after Abi and Ummi told him to search for the girl so they could go home. Hana was leaning against an unrecognisable boy, her eyes unfocused, making Reno raise his brow. A good look at the boy had a word popping in his mind: _evil_. But he didn’t say anything. Whatever Hana did, or _did_ to her, in her free time had nothing to do with him. Hana looked up at him when he approached. She chuckled softly, elbowing her friend.

He sniffed at the air because he was used to Hana’s little habits. Realizing the exact reason why none of them could stand up straight, he only shook his head in disbelief. “Let’s go home,” he pulled at her arm, “Abi told us to go home.”

“Reno.” Hana pushed his hand away. “I wanted to say something to you earlier.”

Reno frowned. “I’m surprised you can still think.”

She laughed at that, too loud, too shrill, earning other people’s attention despite the thinning crowd. “I don’t really remember what I wanted to say, do you believe that!” She pushed into him, their face close, invading his personal space, as if she was trying to search in him what was so important. “ _Oh_!” She burst into a fit of giggles. “I remember what,” she looked around, searching for something.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Reno said lazily.

“I saw you smile."

“What?”

“You heard me! I saw _you_ smiling.” Hana’s grin was wolfish when she continued. “I haven’t see you smile for—for _ever_ , dude. You don’t even fucking laugh, not even for faking it, you’re like this… you’re so emotionless, like a robot. Do you know that that _scares the shit out of people_? You’re a fucking basket case, dude, people already see you as a _monster._ But I saw you, earlier. I saw you smile, talking to that pretty dude. Wait, I know his name, isn’t he pretty famous? Hey, Alan, what was his name again—"

Reno stared down at his stepsister without so much as a quirk of his lips. He took a deep breath, knowing that she wouldn’t remember a word from this conversation. She was too high to process _anything_ about this event.

“Can you blame me?” he replied. “This is the first time I’ve felt happy in this god-awful year.” He glanced at the boy, who was watching them; he was decidedly more sober than Hana was. Reno made a mental note of his face just in case he needed some shutting up. “You and _your_ parents don’t make it easy to be happy around here.”

Hana giggled, her hands grasping his shirt. Her nails were a dark red, reminding him of Kinan and the stain he cleaned from his shirt. “Well, you know what, Ren? No one is fucking _happy_. Some of us, though, had enough balls to do _something_ about it."

“God, you’re a fucking mess,” he pushed her away, rolling his eyes. Before she could escape, though, his hand circled around her wrist and he started dragging her to their parents despite her protests.

But Hana was wrong. Everyone else might not be happy, but he was. He hadn’t been for a while, but he was currently happy. There was only one reason why: there was a new number in his phone, someone that he knew was going to contact him that night.

The rest of the world could burn for all he cared.


End file.
